


Who's At The End?

by gingerbread man (xphantomhive)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave tells a story, Dave tries to rap to someone going through emotional turmoil, Fluff, Gather around, Ice Cream, John is John, Kisses, Like haha sure, M/M, Oneshot, Red String of Fate, So he starts off "no! I'm not a homo!", Strangled fangirl noises, They do the forehead touch, You live John's story, per usual, soulmate, t+ for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphantomhive/pseuds/gingerbread%20man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been following the red string for eight years, the only fleck of color among a vast expanse of white.</p><p>You find the person at the end after five.</p><p>You see their face for the first time when you're fifteen.</p><p>[Red String of Fate. JohnDave. AU.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's At The End?

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my very small, very devout fanbase, who are going through a rough patch with my story A Breath of Fresh Heir.

You first start seeing _them_ in your dreams when you’re seven.

The first time was the most confusing. Your dad put you to bed, told you how proud of you he was, how proud he’d always be, then he shut out the lights and you were out in t-minus five seconds. When you woke up next, you found yourself laying on the ground, sprawled out in a place you’d never been before. Once you’d gained focus, you had instantly noticed everything was white. Even the clothes you wore, ones that had been blue and black when you’d gone to bed, were now white. You had to wake up and register what was happening.

It wasn’t much, really. But then, you caught a glimpse of color. Just the slightest. Red, elegant and luxurious against the white surrounding you. You had soon noticed it was actually a string, tied and knotted to your ring finger, and you couldn’t seem to untie it for the life of you. So you left it go, and, being a curious seven year old, attempted to follow it to the end -- but there was nothing. Just white.

When you turned, twelve, you think, that all changed. For years, you’d been following the string, trailing it into endless white. You had been convinced it never ended, that everything in that plain was white, and the red string was nothing more than something to mock you. “I’m the only color here, but I lead nowhere! Ha-ha!” and you never thought that was very funny. But, on the day of your twelfth birthday, the string came to an end.

And now, you could very clearly make out a person. You could never see them properly. They were always shrouded by a thin veil of blonde hair, and if you called to them, they never seemed to acknowledge you. It left you upset and pouty for the rest of the dream, and instead of persisting they notice you, you had eventually decided you’d just sit there. They’d have to pay attention to you eventually, right? You sure hoped so. If you explained these dreams to anyone, they’d always laugh it off, tell you it’s nothing more than a stupid little reoccurring dream. It’ll go away. You will grow out of it, sometime.

Your name is John Egbert, and you’re _so_ tired of hearing that.

Tired of being told the dream is nothing. That it’s never been anything, that it will pass sometime, and you’ll never see it again. Because that’s a load of bullshit. Today is your fifteenth birthday, and you’re eager to have the dream. Every year you’d aged, the string would become shorter and shorter, and you’d move closer and closer to whoever was on the end of it. You still aren’t sure what the string is, but after some research, you’re slightly convinced it might be the “red string of fate.”

Your best friend Rose tells you you’re crazy. She’s blonde, so sometimes you joke with her that maybe she’s the one on the other end of the string. And then she looks at you with that _look_ , as though you’d strangled millions of puppies before her eyes. Your cousin Jade tells you she thinks it’s sweet, that you might be having dreams about your soulmate. And your other best friend, Dave, seems to be caught between those two. He tells you he can’t decide whether you’re going insane, or if the “red string of fate” shit is actually real. You’d go with the latter, but hey, that’s you.

School is a breeze that day. It really is everyday, but that’s besides the point. You’re showered with cake as soon as you get home, with “I love you’s” and “I’m proud of you’s” and you thank your dad even though you really, really hate that. When eleven o’clock rolls around, you’re tucked into bed, but you can’t seem to fall asleep. You guess it’s a bit ironic that you want to dream, but you can’t sleep in order to do so. You also think Dave would be laughing at you for speaking of irony; you always tell him he over-uses it.

He’s blonde, too. You wonder if maybe he’s at the end of the string. That makes you puff out a laugh. You aren’t homosexual! Geez, why would a dream even imply something like that? Well, actually, you’d been the one to imply it, but that’s something you don’t care to concern yourself with. After a while of letting your thoughts run amiss, you finally manage to fall into a slumber; and the dream starts.

You’re used to how it starts -- waking up in a vast expanse of white nothingness, your pajamas changed from blue to white. The red string is much shorter tonight. When you can finally think straight, you notice there’s a coil in it. A frown replaces your bucktoothed grin. You can’t possibly leave it like that, but the string is so short, and if you get too close...what if you lose the person on the other end? What if they disappear, all because you felt it necessary to unravel a tiny knot in the string connecting the two of you? You push those thoughts to the back of your head and take a bold step forward. You _will_ untangle the string.

Luckily, you manage to do so without disturbing what you’re pretty sure, by now, is your soulmate. They’re still masked behind blonde hair. You look to your finger, to the string at your feet, and notice how short it’s become. And so you do as you once had, the first time you had this dream, and follow the string to the end. It takes mere seconds before it’s gathered at your feet, and you’re standing right in front of your soulmate. You can make out more distinct features now. A dusting of freckles, and...sunglasses?

Sunglasses that look suspiciously like the ones you’d gotten Dave for his thirteenth birthday, two years ago. You swallow the lump in your throat and hope your words come out loud and clear, but all you manage to do is squeak a, “hi?” and it comes out more as a question than a statement. Smooth, real smooth, John -- deter your soulmate before you even get a good look at their face. You doubt they’ll turn to you. They never have before, why would tonight be any different?

But they do.

They do, and it’s the worst and most glorious moment of your life. Because it’s Dave. A few mumbled curses force their way out of you; it’s been, what, eight years? Eight years that you’ve been pining to see a person you’ve known since kindergarten. He smiles at you. He’s never done that before, but this is dream Dave, so he’s different, right? You guess so. “Yo, Egbert. Been waiting a long fuckin’ time for that thing to finally run out, ain’t you? Only to realize your best friend’s been at the end of it all along. ‘M sorry. Are all of your little Egderp dreams crushed?”

Well, okay. Dream Dave might have smiled, which is unusual, but he sounds exactly like normal Dave does. _Your_ Dave. “No!” You squeak. No dreams of yours had really been crushed, honestly; you didn’t really mind him being at the end. Plus, you’ve been waiting years for this, so you figure finding any person at the end is a good thing. “I’m just glad I finally found out who you were. It’s been eight years. I just--I’m kind of happy.”

Dream Dave smiles again, softer this time. You wonder if your Dave would look the same if he smiled once and a while, but you’ve never seen it happen, so you wouldn’t know. “Glad to know you’re a happy little dweeb. Now are you gonna fuckin’ kiss me or what? That’s what’s supposed to happen at the end a’ this string, ya’ know.”

Your mind persists that you are not a homosexual. You tell your mind to shut it this time. You lean in, and as your lips ghost over Dave’s--

You wake up.

Oh, now you’re pissed. You do everything that morning violently. You brush your teeth violently, you get dressed violently, and you tell your dad that you love him violently. He asks you why you sound so angry, and you tell him “reasons” and he laughs fondly. You even greet Jade, Rose, and Dave that morning in a violent manner, and the three of them raise a confused eyebrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Egbert?” Dave asks, always the first to question you.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” You mutter spitefully, crossing your arms. Your Dave doesn’t know about the dream, obviously he isn’t going to mention it since he has no clue that it even happened, that you almost _kissed_ him in it, that you’d wanted desperately to. Rose laughs delicately, and you scowl at her, but you doubt it looks intimidating. You’ve never been very good at that.

“You don’t look “fine,” John,” She says. “The dream, again? You always seem quite vengeful on mornings after you’ve had it, and you never tell us why.”

You mumble a few curses. None of them catch it. “Listen, I found who’s on the end of the string, okay? And I almost kissed them. I almost kissed _him_. And then I woke up, alright? That’s why I’m being a pissy baby. Because I found my soulmate, and woke up before I could kiss them.” Jade looks taken aback, unsurprisingly. Rose does as well, which is a lot more surprising than Jade’s shock.

Dave rolls his eyes beneath his glasses. You know he does -- after being best friends with him since forever, you know what happens beneath them. “If you lovely ladies could walk ahead please, I’d like to have a heart to heart with my best bro.” He requests, and they both comply without a second thought. Hmm. You watch them trail off, and now you’re alone with Dave, and _oh god_ had you felt this way about him all along? You feel like you’re going to vomit everywhere. “You know, I’ve been havin’ that dream since I was seven,” He begins, and you stop and stare at him, dumbstruck.

He shakes his head and tells you to keep walking, or he won’t tell the story, so you do. “First time, I woke up alone. Fuck if I wasn’t upset about that shit. Everything was completely white, even my clothes, and let me tell you Egderp, that shit wasn’t flying with me. I noticed that stupid ass red string on my ring finger, can’t begin to tell you all the countless times I tried to get it the hell off’a me, but I never could. But on my twelfth birthday, five motherfuckin’ years later, there was a person at the end,” He pauses again, probably to take a breather. “They had black hair, and it looked so fucking soft, like a damn cloud. And I wanted to touch it. That was when I tried takin’ a step forward, and it worked, and I tried to talk to them. But they couldn’t hear me.” He stops again.

You guess he may be done, but when you go to talk, he tells you to shut up and let him finish. “I tried talkin’ to them for three damn years. They seemed to be ignorin’ me, and that shit was pissing me the fuck off. I couldn’t even see exactly what they looked like until last night, and this time, I didn’t try to talk to ‘em. They found me; and Egdork, they were absolutely fucking stunnin’. Blue eyes, the black hair, glasses,” He stops again. This time you know he isn’t done. “And the best part? They were you.”

You stop in your tracks. “You--you--” Is all you can manage, but it really doesn’t matter, because in the split second you try to talk Dave presses his lips to yours. When he pulls back, there’s a small smile on his face, and you can confirm it looks just like the one dream Dave had flashed you last night. “Oh my god,” You sputter out, and then collapse into a heap of sobs and tears. Dave looks pretty surprised, and you’re pretty surprised yourself, because, why the _fuck_ are you even crying? What even is the point? The blonde doesn’t really react at first, but eventually he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, and then he starts rapping. You laugh and wipe your nose with your sleeve, still sniffling.

“You dork. That isn’t how you comfort someone,” You say. “I was going through emotional turmoil and you rapped to me. How did I get stuck with you as my soulmate, again?”

“Ouch, Egbert. Gotta play the soulmate card?”

You shrug. “Yes. Sometimes.” Then you kiss him, initiating and taking charge for once, and when the two of you pull back for air you rest your foreheads together. “Don’t rap to me if you’re trying to comfort me next time. Love you, though.” It just kind of slips. You figure pining after someone for eight years must do that to you, make you lose your filter when it comes to anything meaningful.

“Love ya’ too, Egdork. You wanna skip school and get ice cream, instead?”

You aren’t one for skipping. Never have before. But you shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> This sucked right? It did. I wrote it in like fourty minutes last night.
> 
> Also I kind of want to do another soulmate au. The one where the countdown to meeting your soulmate is on your wrist? That one.
> 
> It depends if anyone would read it. XD


End file.
